


Day of the Dead

by thezonefic



Category: Babylon 5
Genre: Adult Language, Alternate Reality, Alternate Timelines, Angst, Complete, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-15
Updated: 2011-02-15
Packaged: 2017-10-15 16:46:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/162828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thezonefic/pseuds/thezonefic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Day of the Dead on Babylon 5, the AR part is Neroon survived the Starfire, as did Delenn and Neroon is now Shai Alyt of the Warrior Caste and officially one of two hearts, both Religious and Warrior caste.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day of the Dead

**Author's Note:**

> Genre: Pre-slash  
> Pairing: Marcus Cole/Neroon sort of, you’ll get it once you read the fic. Mention of Neroon/OMC and Marcus/OFCs.  
> Date: January-February 2006.  
> Notes: This is what you get if you shovel three inches of snow, eat Cherries Garcia and then go to bed after working all night.  
> Acknowledgements: KerorinSama for the beta work she does on my fics; they’d be a hell of a lot less polished and all the worse for it. All Minbari words are taken from Hightower’s dictionary at the JumpNow site.

Settling down for his nightly ritual of meditation, Neroon, recently elevated to Shai Alyt of the Warrior Caste, slowly began to ready his mind for the cleansing and renewal that a Warrior Caste version of the Na'fak Cha always brought him. Neroon had begun the nightly practice of a pared down version of Na'fak Cha when he’d awoken still alive but badly burned from his ordeal in the Starfire Wheel. Awoke in pain but alive when what he’d meant to happen was to die in order to unite the castes, having declared himself Religious as well as Warrior, in much the same way as his long dead but still beloved Branmer had at the start of the war with the Humans. Dead and out of the way, so that Delenn could mend the bridges that his foolishness and Shakiri’s stupidity had set afire and almost plunged their people back a thousand years. A thousand years into barbarity and savagery, into the almost daily inter-clan, inter-caste blood bath that was Minbari society, before the coming of the one who was Minbari, but was not born of Minbari - Valen. Jeffrey David Sinclair, Human; the savior of Minbar and the savior of the then-known universe. The unifying force that gathered the scattered, demoralized and badly losing forces of the then-Army of Light into the fighting force that beat back the Shadows to their home world of Z’ha’dum and imprisoned them there. A role that he, Neroon, a distant descendant of Valen, would share with still another distant descendant of Valen…Delenn.

Shaking his head slowly as he deepened the meditative ritual, part of Neroon laughed softly at the irony that he, once one of the greatest haters of the Torrbari, would actually find solace that he was descended, albeit distantly, from one and that he and his long time nemesis Delenn would actually be related more closely then either would have ever believed or had been comfortable with. His old lover, Mayan, would have loved the delicious irony of it. Ah, the Teela she would have written and sung. Neroon could almost hear the chime of her laughter as she finished the verses.

Shivering slightly as the temperature fluctuated down to an uncomfortable level in his quarters, Neroon dimly realized that lighting had also decreased to the dim level of emergency lighting only, as the deep quiet of meditation left and the razor sharp awareness of his normal waking state returned.

“Hello, Neroon,” the softly accented voice called from the darkened corner of his quarters. “Congratulations on becoming Shai Alyt.”

Jumping to his feet quickly, Denn’bok extended and ready to defend, Neroon turned to face the voice of one he never thought to see this side of the veil again. “Marcus? How can this be? You are dead!”

“I’m not really sure about the how either; something to do with the Brakiri Day of the Dead rituals.” Marcus shrugged as he emerged into the dim lighting, an amused glint shining in the deep emerald of his eyes. “They’ve rented a part of the station and somehow it becomes essentially a part of their home world, and somehow people who’ve died under certain circumstances can come back for tonight.”

“But how can this be? The dead do not return. Once a soul crosses the veil, it does not come back,” Neroon insisted emphatically.

Shrugging again, Marcus replied, “I don’t know either, Neroon. One moment I was…and the next I was in your quarters. Mind if I take a seat on your couch?”

“You were where?”

“Hmmm…you know, I honestly don’t remember,” Marcus raised puzzled green eyes to Neroon. “I don’t know where I was or what I was doing. All I do know for certain is that I’m here and it’s only until the equivalent of sunrise on the Brakiri home world. Neroon, how can I know this? Bugger it, my life always seems to have those sorts of strange complications, even when I’ve bloody well gone and died.”

“I do not know, but I think perhaps we should speak to Delenn and Sheridan; perhaps they have some answers,” Neroon began as he easily rose to his feet reaching for the heavy warrior’s cloak he’d carelessly tossed onto the small coffee table. “Come, Marcus, the sooner we discover what mischief has been played, the sooner perhaps we can,” Neroon abruptly broke off as the hatch to his quarters opened to open space, not the usual bland corridor of Green 15. “By Valen, what sorcery is this?”

Grabbing the warrior by a well-muscled arm, Marcus manhandled the stunned warrior back into his quarters, hitting the emergency door closure panel hard. “Are you all right?” he asked the still stunned warrior.

Pulling the smaller framed human up against him, Neroon whispered, “You are real, not only some fevered dream of my mind.”

“Oh, I’m real all right,” Marcus murmured back returning the embrace with all of his strength.

Stepping back, Neroon reluctantly released Marcus, “Perhaps we should try the communications console. I do not think that either of us is capable of traversing open space to try and reach another part of the station safely.”

Trying the Babcom, both human and Minbari turned to look at each other in startled surprise when the computer quickly informed that they were thousands of light years out of range for communications with most other parts of the station. Quickly instructing the computer, Marcus asked for computer to list all of the Babcom consoles they could contact, both men looking at each other in dismay at the shortness of the list.

“Hmmm perhaps we can try Mr. Garibaldi’s quarters, if I remember correctly, his were on Green 17.” Marcus frowned, his brow furrowed in concentration as he instructed the computer to make the connection

“Ah, good, Mr. Garibaldi,” Marcus smiled at the grizzled Head of Alliance Security.

“Marcus, great to see you, it’s been awhile.” Garibaldi grinned at the Ranger standing side by side with the Shai Alyt, apparently totally unsurprised at Marcus’ presence on the station. “You better not let Susan know you’re aboard tonight or she’ll take up most of it chewing out your ass. She came aboard tonight; her ship stopped by to consult with the President.”

“You’re the only one we’ve managed to contact as yet, Mr. Garibaldi,” Neroon replied.

“Yeah, well, it’s because I’ve been through this before and once I saw we were going through the ritual again I rigged my Babcom with extra juice from the power mains, to extend its range. I’ve checked in with Delenn. She’s also got some company for tonight and the President is tucked up all nice and tight in their quarters sleeping. So, why don’t you and Neroon just settle back and enjoy your visit…I’d like to get back to mine.”

“You’ve company like me?” Marcus asked startled. “There are more of the dead wandering around Babylon 5 tonight?”

“I don’t know about the wandering around part, but the way it worked last time, and it seems to be working again, the deceased person shows up to a significant person in their quarters and it’s only in very specific parts of the station. Parts of the station that the Brakiri have somehow transformed so that they are no longer a part of Babylon 5 but are actually a part of the Brakiri home world, and as such under the same powers that allow the Day of the Dead to happen there.”

“So, who are you entertaining for the night, Michael?” Marcus asked an amused smirk growing over his face.

“Me, Marcus,” Jeffrey Sinclair answered gravely.

“Entil’Zha,” Marcus murmured reverently as he bowed deeply.

“By all that is…Sinclair?” Neroon asked stunned.

“Yes, Neroon, it’s me, in the flesh so to speak.”

“Valen.”

“Well, no, not really. Right now I’m Jeffrey Sinclair, and as such I came back to see Garibaldi; I owed him.”

“Damned straight you did for that stunt you pulled with Babylon 4,” Michael’s annoyed tones came through loudly. “The shit assed way you left me out.”

“Michael, a moment more, and then we can fight to your heart’s content,” Sinclair turned, distracted by the other man’s words.

“Fight my ass; I want to knock your fucking head off for leaving me like that. That’s twice now, Jeff. First when you left for Minbari, not knowing or caring whether I lived or died…and then that fucking ‘hello old friend message’,” Garibaldi’s voice rose angrily, his face flushing darkly.

“Michael,” Sinclair began again, shrugging in apology to the two men watching Garibaldi’s growing anger. “Good night, gentlemen. Enjoy your evening, both of you, and take each and every advantage that’s offered…it may never come again.” Sinclair concluded then swiftly ended the transmission.

“Well, we’ve got some answers, Neroon. What say you we take up Entil’Zha’s suggestion and that we enjoy our time together?” Marcus asked as he easily sprawled down onto Neroon’s couch. “Hmmm, comfortable; much nicer then the one I had in my quarters when I lived here, but then these are definitely much nicer quarters then the ones I occupied. Being higher up the command chain has it privileges, doesn’t it?”

Frowning, Neroon removed his cloak, folding it neatly over the end of the small counter separating the food preparation area from the living area. “And how do you suggest that we spend our time together, Anla’Shok?”

“Not sure that I deserve that title anymore, being dead and all. How about you telling me about all that’s gone on, well, since I died? I am interested.”

“The title remains yours, Marcus, in death as it was in life. It is never surrendered,” Neroon replied as he seated himself next to the sprawled human. “I was not aware that you actually died. Delenn and the others, when they speak of you, say that you are in stasis, on the cusp of death, awaiting the day when Dr. Franklin has learned enough about that machine you used to save Captain Ivanova, to bring you to health without endangering others. Although from what I hear, you may not retain your health for long; the Captain is still said to be greatly angered by your actions.”

“Ivanova made Captain? She certainly deserved the promotion. Mr. Garibaldi said something about her ship being here. Ivanova left Babylon 5?”

“Yes, after the final battle. When both the Vorlons and Sher’shok Dum left for beyond the Rim, she requested reassignment to an active deep space war ship. She commands Hour of the Wolf, the ship is called. Delenn said her promotion and the lack of retribution by the Torrbari authorities were all part of the arrangement Sheridan made when he returned to your home world. The new Captain here is a female name Lochley. There is some talk that she is somehow tied to Sheridan in their past. What else would you wish to hear of?”

“So, what else had happened? It’s obvious that our side won the war or we wouldn’t be here talking, so spill it, Neroon,” Marcus insisted. “The civil unrest on Minbari between Religious and Warrior castes, what came of that? Shakiri of the Wind Sword clan was Shai Alyt, was he not? But I see you’re wearing the insignia of the Shai Alyt. In fact, I know for certain you’re the Shai Alyt.”

Settling back, the taciturn warrior began to speak of the events that had passed since the time of the final battle against the Sher'shok Dum.

“So, Shakiri’s arrogance finally did him in,” Marcus chuckled softly. “I only saw him the one time, at the training facility. He didn’t make a very good impression on the human trainees and annoyed Sech Durhan and Sech Turval more than I’d ever seen either of them annoyed before, and - believe me - I annoyed both of them a great deal.”

“Durhan still speaks well of you, with great respect and affection. You were one of his favorite students. We spent a great deal of time during my recovery together. It was he who helped return me to fighting form.”

“Recovery? What recovery?”

“Patience, Anla’Shok, patience. The tale requires time to be told,” Neroon smiled.

“Well, I have to say I think that the Warrior Council elected the right person to lead the caste,” Marcus blushed brightly at Neroon’s words,” but wait a minute. Did Shakiri die before the civil unrest was stopped or after?”

“Shakiri died a Valdar after Delenn outwitted him by arranging the surrender of the Religious Caste to the Warrior Caste at the Great Temple. Delenn arranged for a vid transmission to all of Minbari of the proceedings. She entered the Starfire Wheel, as did caste leaders in the days before Valen stopped Minbari killing Minbari. Shakiri proved his unfitness to lead when he refused to first to enter with her, and then to stay when she refused to leave. I then attempted to reclaim the honor of my caste and entered the fire with her. She was sent from the wheel, by its accord and I stayed. It was in those moments when I thought I was to die; I came to know that, like my Ma'fela, Branmer, I was of two hearts, Warrior and Religious. And so I proclaimed it before all the world while in the fire…I do not remember anything after that. I have been told the fire flared brightly then vanished and a hologram of Valen appeared in the temple, speaking to the people, proclaiming peace for all Minbari. Warrior, Religious and Worker immediately ceased all hostilities. Delenn was treated quickly and, with the blessings of Valen’s words spoken in the temple, reformed the Nine. Now the Workers hold the balance of power, with 4 among the Nine, the Warriors three and the Religious two. It took me almost a Valzha'bar to completely recover. Then a Valzha'bar later Shakiri was dead, the Nine and Council of Warriors called me to be Shai Alyt, as was Branmer, he who also of two hearts, before me.

“You and Shai Alyt Branmer were lovers?”

“We were.”

“It must have been wonderful to have had someone to love…”Marcus broke off.

“You did not?”

“No, not really. There was someone along time ago, on Arisia. She died when the Shadows came…when my brother William died trying to warn me. Even earlier, during the war, there was another Intelligence officer. I was attracted, he wasn’t, and I wasn’t the type to just climb into bed with someone just because of hormones. And later I thought that there could have been someone again, but she…she wasn’t interested. She’d had one too many bad experiences in love. So, no, there wasn’t anyone, except for maybe in my mind, ever; no lovers at all.”

“Marcus, if you would wish I would be honored to undergo the ritual of Kaszha'hak,” Neroon formally announced. “We are sufficiently acquainted for me to propose such if you are agreeable and amiable to laying with a male.”

Standing Marcus bowed ritually to the Warrior, “Thank you, Shai Alyt, for your kind offer, but I never slept with anyone while I was alive. It won’t be really good form to just sleep with you tonight; even the Kaszha’hak is for more then a one night stand. But I wouldn’t mind if you just held me for awhile…wherever I am, usually, I don’t get the feeling I get a lot of being held.”

“That will be no hardship, Marcus Cole. Come, let us make a resting place for us here on the floor; there is room, pillows and a blanket to make a comfortable place.”

Nestling in together, the two men lay close, Marcus resting his head on the large warrior’s broad chest, Neroon laying well propped up with pillows, so that he did not court death by laying flat.

“This is nice. Thank you, Neroon, for this kindness.”

“It is no kindness, Marcus Cole, for had we more time, I believe that we would have been much more to one another. Now, rest comfortably for what time we do have.”

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Neroon?”

“Yes.”

“It’s time. The sun is starting to rise over the Brakiri home world and I’m going to have to go. Close your eyes. I don’t want you to see me leave.”

“It will be as you wish, Anla’Shok,” Neroon murmured, his kiss chaste and gentle against beard covered cheeks. “I will miss you, Marcus Cole, for all the remaining days of my life.”

“If there is any way, I’ll be back,” Marcus began as he rose to his feet, a soft glow like the rays of a rising sun surrounding him, “but if there isn’t a way, live your life to the fullest, Shai Alyt. Don’t mourn any longer for Branmer and certainly don’t mourn for me, just remember…love…” then died away into the silence of Neroon’s quarters.

Neroon opened his eyes to empty quarters, the Babcom chiming softly in the background. Rising slowly to his feet from the pallet they’d made to rest on, Neroon slowly moved to answer the call.

“As you have asked so will I do, Marcus; walk gently and serenely in the place where no shadows fall, and know that one day I will join you to walk by your side.”

The End.


End file.
